


Keeping Secrets Safe, Every Move We Make

by historyziam



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Beards (Relationships), Closeted, Heartbreak, Internalized Homophobia, Lies, M/M, Pining, Sad, Sexuality Crisis, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 17:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historyziam/pseuds/historyziam
Summary: Eric keeps so many secrets, and he’s at risk of revealing the biggest one of all: his love for Dele.





	Keeping Secrets Safe, Every Move We Make

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows the timeline from my previous fic for the most part, but this time it’s in Eric’s point of view and describes his struggles with his own feelings.
> 
> The bit of dialogue in Portugese was translated using Google, hope it’s somewhat accurate.

Eric laughs it off when Poch breaks the news to him and Dele, that they can’t be around each other in public for some time, until the rumours about them stop. It’s better than the alternative-- the urge to yell, to let out the anger and disbelief bubbling inside him is strong, but he’s at the losing end in this situation.

He can’t refuse.

He can’t cause a scene.

He admits defeat because there’s ultimately one thing he can’t admit: they’re not _ just _ rumours. At least not to an extent.

Eric has a secret.

He thinks he might be in love with Dele. But no one has to know that but him.

***

Eric hadn’t wanted to admit to himself for the longest time that he liked Dele as more than a friend. It had not even been a year since Dele joined the team, and he couldn’t come to terms with it, the new, bizarre feeling that pulsed through him whenever the younger man touched him or smiled at him.

When he gave it even a little consideration, a queasy sensation would make its way to his stomach, making him lose his appetite.

But he’s not _ gay _, he’s not. He had only dated women since he was a teenager. Had never even considered the possibility of being with a man.

_ I’m not gay. I can’t be gay. Bisexual then? _

_ …Delesexual? _

He had tried to convince himself that his actions with Dele were no different than how he behaved with the other players. Blamed all the time spent together with Dele in close proximity for messing with his head and making him imagine romantic affection that wasn’t there. Found solace in the fact that it was likely an infatuation, and it would fade.

Until summer break came along and nothing had changed, except he had spent most of it now longing for Dele’s presence. Days before the new season started, in his empty apartment, was when he finally confessed it out loud.

“I have feelings for Dele.”

For a fleeting moment, he felt free.

***

Eric can’t count the number of times his poker face and general monotony have saved him from displaying his true emotions, but he’s never been more grateful for it than now. It’s still tough, and he berates himself for every single _ almost _\-- almost talking to Dele, almost touching him, almost gesturing to him-- but he hardly lets his exasperation show.

Dele has a more difficult time getting used to the separation, but Eric had expected it-- the younger man wears his heart on his sleeve and had acted on impulse countless times before. Eric keeps a tentative but watchful eye on him, a little anxious that any wrong move might set him off. He takes notice of Dele’s growing frustration with every match and training session. His heart breaks a little more each time Dele retracts his arm, steps away from him or closes his mouth when he realises.

It leaves Eric hollow. He had taken their easy banter for granted and not having that is a loss, but what’s worse is having to watch his best mate be miserable on the pitch and not be able to do anything about it.

***

The ball gets into the edge of the goal swiftly. Adrenaline whizzes through Eric’s body as he lets out a cheer and raises his arms in celebration. Warm bodies press against him from all sides when his teammates approach him one by one to revel in the joy with him.

When he turns around, he doesn’t have time to react in the split second that he is enveloped in a hug. It’s Dele, he can tell, he would recognise his touch anywhere. Panic takes over and in a flash of absolute desperation, he shoves Dele away. He regrets it as soon as he does it.

_ Fuck. Shit. No, Del, come back. I didn’t mean it. _

Dele ignores him all week after the match, refusing to let Eric talk to him or even get close to him, and Eric sulks. He goes to a club one night, gets drunk and takes a girl home.

***

Vanessa’s her name, Eric learns. Moved to London the year before to pursue a career in modelling. He tells her upfront not to expect anything from him emotionally-- he’d only like to keep up appearances. He doesn’t tell her about Dele, but he doesn’t have to. She knows how to play a role, and she plays it well.

They become almost like friends-- he actually does like her company, finds that she’s funny and pleasant to talk to. If he asks to meet with her more often in a last-ditch attempt to see if there could be a chance that he could develop feelings for her instead, to make everything easier, then it’s no one’s business but his own.

Still, every time Eric closes his eyes, he sees brown eyes instead of her blue ones, short, trimmed dark hair instead of her blonde locks, and a lanky, athletic body instead of her slender figure.

She’s lovely. She’s just not Dele.

***

Eric isn’t surprised when Dele asks about Vanessa the first time they meet after the pictures are released. He hadn’t mentioned the snaps, nor eluded to anything regarding the night he was sighted with her. If he could’ve gone longer without talking about it, he would have. Eric’s certain that Dele has taken his silence personally, and that he must wonder why he’s had to coax an acknowledgment out of him.

He lies through his teeth anyway, pretending that theirs is a genuine relationship and it’s going great, and Dele suspects nothing.

Hours later, Eric crawls out of bed when he thinks Dele’s fast asleep in the room beside his. He’s been finding it hard to sleep lately. The bed is cold, empty and his traitorous brain makes him imagine scenarios that are too far out of reach-- like what it would be like to have Dele next to him, with his arms around him, gently kissing his neck.

He heads back to the main hall and switches on FIFA as if on autopilot, turns up the volume in his earpiece to prevent his mind from going into overdrive again, the voices telling him that he’s wrong for lying to his best mate. Eric’s feelings for him aside, they’ve always confided in each other and it seems like an immense betrayal, not doing it this time.

All Eric had wanted to do was admit that there’s nothing serious going on between him and Vanessa and there never will be, but that would mean having to explain himself, which is the last thing he wants when Dele’s the main reason he’s even lying, and he doesn’t even fully understand nor accept the reasons behind his own actions.

The absolute worst part is Eric’s secret relief at the pictures being released. He takes comfort in the thought that, to the media, fans and team’s management, he’s straight and dating a woman.

_ I need them to get off my back, that’s all. _

Eric’s career means the world to him. He’s built it from the ground up and has worked so hard to get to where he is now. If he has to sacrifice something -- _ someone _ \-- to keep it then... He’s already been dealt a good hand. He can’t get all he wants in life but he’s gotten pretty close.

The thought crushes him.

Eric gives up on the game after a while, too distracted to focus. He eventually falls asleep and dreams of a house with a white picket fence, dogs running around the garden, and Dele grinning in front of him, his arm outstretched to take his hand.

***

Eric had felt jittery walking to the pub where he was meeting some of his teammates. It was the first time he would be seeing Dele after he owned up to the fact that he had feelings for the younger man. He was entering unfamiliar territory, knowing that Dele wasn’t only _ Dele, my best mate _ anymore, but also _ Dele, the man I love _.

His chest pulsed when Dele approached him with a huge grin and his arms wide open, inviting him into a hug. The sensations from Dele’s embrace had amplified tenfold, making Eric hyper-aware when his heart raced and his palms became slightly sweaty.

With these new feelings, came silly, unwelcome ones as well. White hot jealousy flamed in his belly when he watched Son put his arm around Dele and pulled him close, or when Dele gave Winks a kiss on his forehead when he offered to buy everyone a drink. He hadn’t processed exactly how much of an emotional change he would experience after his revelation.

He had excused himself and stepped outside after a few drinks. The sights and sounds inside the bar became too overwhelming, and his senses already felt like they were on overdrive.

“Nice seeing the guys again, eh? Love nights like these,” Dele’s voice pierced through the air after a few minutes as he stepped up beside him, to Eric’s silent exasperation.

Eric subconsciously nodded several times as Dele chattered on, not fully paying attention to what he was saying.

“Hello? Dier, can you join me back down on planet Earth please,” Dele spoke up, waving his hand in front of Eric’s face. He had been caught; Dele had probably asked him a question and all he had done was nod. Eric shook his head as if to bring himself back to reality.

“Sorry,” Eric uttered. “Lots on my mind.”

“Thinking about how you lost three rounds of darts just now?” he joked.

“Can you be serious for one second?” Eric snapped, wincing at his own words after he had said them. “Sorry.”

Dele’s expression morphed into a frown. He placed a supportive hand on Eric’s shoulder, pure worry etched on his face, which made Eric feel ten times worse. “What’s going on?”

Eric took in a breath and shifted his gaze to the ground. “Estou apaixonado por você e não sei o que fazer.”

_ I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do. _

Dele retracted his hand to scratch the side of his head, a bit put out by Eric’s response. His forehead creased in confusion. “What does that mean?”

Eric looked back up at him then, but merely shrugged. “Nothing. Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter.”

His lack of a proper response simply spurred Dele on.

“Eric, come on,” Dele cajoled, nudging his side with his elbow. He had that look on his face, the all-too-familiar forlorn yet pleading look he went for whenever he wanted someone to do something for him. It had regularly worked in his favour over the years. “Tell me.”

“Lads!” Toby called out from the entrance of the pub, and Eric had thanked every deity he knew for the other man’s sudden presence, taking attention away from what would have easily been a disaster of an explanation. “C’mon, we’re starting another round and we need more players.”

“Be right there,” Dele hollered. He turned to face Eric. “I’ll figure out what you said.”

Eric managed a tiny smile as Dele walked off. “Doubt it.”

***

The lies continue when he tells his teammates about Vanessa, knowing Dele’s listening to every word. He even convinces her to attend a Spurs game, in spite of her chagrin.

He doesn’t know why he’s overdoing it-- can’t decide what’s worse, if it’s merely a pathetic attempt at making Dele jealous or wants to somehow convince himself that they could have an actual relationship so he could take a break from feeling so fucking guilty all the time.

_ Guilty for lying. _

_ Guilty for liking men. _

_ Guilty for not being able to be himself. _

_ Guilty for not _ wanting _ to be himself. _

He’s tired of the war between his head and heart, but he can’t seem to stop.

***

Eric looks around the stadium for Dele when he disappears right after training. He’s had a rough go of things for months. Eric’s more than a little concerned; guilt stabs at him constantly for not being there for his mate as much as he should have been. He finds him in the gym eventually, not at all prepared for the words that would later leave his mouth.

“I’m in love with you.”

Complete and utter shock is what registers first. He’s petrified, rooted to the spot. Dele’s eyes are desperate, searching Eric’s own for a reaction.

He gathers himself as best he can and alters his expression into one of sympathy, armed with the knowledge that he loves Dele with everything he has, but he can’t love Dele in the way Dele wants. In the way _ he _ wants.

“You know I love you, but not in that way,” he responds, and by some divine miracle, his voice doesn’t break. He’s a natural at lying now, it seems.

Dele asks for space, and Eric’s not in a position to do anything but accede.

_ I love you. I love you so much. I’m sorry. _

He feels the sting of tears right as he steps out of the gym, already thinking that he might’ve just lost Dele for good.

***

_ He loves me. He loves me. He loves me back. _

Eric was a fool to think that not being friends with Dele would be easier given that they’ve had to be apart for a long time. Another season’s ending, and they won’t have any trainings, matches or events. Nothing to busy himself with or to hide behind.

Too much free time, and no Dele to spend it with.

The year before, he was kept occupied with professing his own feelings for Dele. Now, knowing Dele feels the same way is much, much worse, when he thinks back to what he’s done.

Eric has, without a doubt, hurt Dele with the charade of his relationship with Vanessa. And yet, Dele was still civil to her every time he met her, had smiled and made small talk with her to make her feel comfortable when she stood awkwardly at her first game.

He has held Dele’s heart in his hands and crushed it into a million pieces. And yet, Dele continued to talk to him, laugh with him.

Continued to love him.

He should be over the moon, delirious with happiness, to have his feelings returned. He has the power, the choice to be with Dele, to see if they could be something more, but he doesn’t deserve it. Dele doesn’t deserve _ him _, because he won’t budge.

What it all comes down to, is that he can’t get away with loving a man in ways that he can with a woman. From the displays of affection in public to the freedom of walking down the street without fear of being jeered at, taunted, made fun of. Being able to be, as they are, out in the open and not be judged for it. Not run the risk of having their careers end because of it.

Too many odds are stacked against them. The reality of it all is like a weight on his chest, bringing him back down to the real world whenever he considers getting bold or defiant with his actions. Eric doesn’t have the courage to try. He never did.

***

Eric has a secret.

Dele loves him, and Eric loves him back. But no one can know that but him.


End file.
